


chicken noodle for the soul

by theackles



Series: Married Destiel/Sabriel [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Christmas Fluff, Cute, Dean Takes Care of Castiel, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Sick Castiel, Sickfic, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2746307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theackles/pseuds/theackles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has a weird flu hybrid and his husband, Dean, takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chicken noodle for the soul

Cas was pretty sick. Well, very sick, and Sam started a petition around the family to not go near Dean or Cas until Cas was cured of the weird flu hybrid he somehow caught in the midst of the winter.

“I have to finish decorating,” Cas grumbled, because Christmas Eve was nearing and the family was coming together in the next week for the party. Cas stayed still, looking up at Dean as if he were actually moving. His nose was bright red, as were his eyes, making his glassy blue eyes look even bluer against the purples and reds surrounding his eyes. A soft sheen of sweat coated his entire body but he shivered despite, hair damp, body bundled in all the blankets they had in their entire house.

“No, you have to stay laying. Rest.” Dean demanded, raking a brave hand through Cas’s damp hair. “You’re like an inferno, Cas, you gotta focus on getting better.” He sighed quietly, perching himself slightly on the edge of their King bed –  because two grown men even took up every inch of a King. “If you don’t get better in time for Christmas, you’re staying up here.” He threatened, because he knew it’d get right to Cas.

And it did.

“No,” Cas wretched, voice pleading but eyes droopy. “No, I won’t miss it.” Then, even though he had the sniffles before, he sniffed again and his eyes started to water like he was about to cry, with his bottom lip beginning to tremble.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Dean laughed quietly, cupping Cas’s face and smoothing his thumb over Cas’s cheekbone.

“No one’s going to come because I’m contagious. I won’t get to watch all the kids open presents.” He frowned, a tear slipping down his cheek.

“Crying is just going to make it worse.” Dean hushed him. “You’ll get to watch them, but you gotta rest, okay?”

Dean wasn’t very good with sick people, or sad people, or people who needed emotional help in general. He got awkward around sad people, got sort of disgusted around sick people, and just generally couldn’t handle anyone with issues. He tried extra hard for Cas, though, because he was Cas – his husband, the love of his life, the sick man in his bed.

Cas nodded reluctantly and buried himself deeper into the covers. “I’ll try.”

Dean nodded and stood. “I’m going to go make you some soup, and after that I want you to sleep.”

“Do we have any of that cold and flu NyQuil stuff?” Cas’s voice cracked and spiked. Dean chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll bring that, too.”

Dean took about thirty minutes to an hour to make the soup, because he liked to make his mom’s recipe when people are sick. It always made him and Sam feel better right away, so he hoped it had the same effect on Cas. He didn’t make it very often, only in the winters usually, and he hadn’t made it in over a year anyways. He was surprised to still know the recipe, but it came easily, like riding a bike.

He put in a bit extra salt, way too much for himself, because Cas kept sweating out all the water in his body and to help his throat.

Cooking soup was the only food he was good at, though. That and grilled cheese.

He grabbed the NyQuil from the cupboard and a bottle of water. Cas was seemingly asleep when he entered, until he sneezed/coughed and jolted on the bed, groaning loudly and whimpering.

Dean sighed and sat the small tray of food on the bedside table, quickly dismissing himself to grab a cold rag to wipe his lover’s face of the disgusting.

When he reentered, Cas was attempting to lift himself to sit up, but his arms wobbled under his weight. Dean laid the cloth on the tray and gripped under Cas’s arms and lifted his weak body and stacked a mountain of pillows behind him.

“Mmm, thanks,” Cas mumbled, sniffling with droopy, red eyes. Dean grabbed the rag and placed it delicately on his forehead. “Mmmmmm that feels good…” Cas groaned, leaning into the cold cloth. Dean chuckled and wiped away his face, around his nose, on his mouth, and dabbed it down his neck where all the sweat had begun to gather.

“I made Mom’s homemade chicken noodle.” He commented, peeling Cas’s sweat-soaked shirt away from his body just enough to run the rag over his chest.

“I can’t smell it,” Cas admitted with his voice dulled out by his congested head. “I’m sorry.”

Dean lifted the spoon with a smile and pushed it gently inside Cas’s mouth. He swallowed with a wince and tried a smile. “I can’t taste it, either, but I’m sure it’s really good.”

Dean laughed and gave him another spoonful. “You’ll get your taste back eventually, or you better, because it’s fucking delicious and I made it really gross and salty for your sick ass.”

After Cas swallowed a couple more spoonfuls, he sighed, “I’d like to take a shower.” He mumbled through drowsy lips. “I’m really tired.”

“Can you even stand for that long?” Dean snorted.

“I just...wanna...rinse,” he panted, attempting to peel the blankets off. “In cold water.”

“You sure you don’t wanna try hot water, to clear your head?”

Cas glared. “Cold water.” He pushed, grabbing onto Dean’s shoulder to hoist himself to his feet. Dean grabbed his wrist and pulled him up, wrapping an arm around his waist to walk him into their bathroom. He sat Cas down on the toilet seat and turned the shower on barely warm, though Cas would find it probably cold.

When he turned, Cas struggled with his damp shirt. Dean grabbed the hem and pulled it over his head. Immediately after, Cas was shivering.

“W-Warm water,” Cas pleaded, shaking his head when he saw how cold the water looked with no steam rising from it. After they got him up and in, Dean held Cas’s arm while he stood there, water beating down on his head and neck, thoroughly soaking him and rinsing the sweat from his skin.

While Cas basically fell asleep in the water with his entire weight leaning on Dean’s arm, Dean grabbed a cloth and ran it under the water, making quick work of running it gently over Cas’s sensitive body, scrubbing at least some of the sickness off of him. He used what little nails he had to massage Cas’s hair, then turned it off and helped him drowsily step out.

**Cas fell asleep back in the room with just a towel wrapped around his waist with a fuzzy blanket tucked around his shoulders.**


End file.
